15 Years
by sapphire2994
Summary: An alternative version of 4x01 "Shalom". For fifteen years, Jethro Gibbs has been haunted by the memories of his wife and daughter, memories he has tried to bury in his past. Yet, when Ziva is framed for the murder of an FBI agent, Gibbs is forced to confront these memories and face devastating secrets. What will they reveal? And how do they relate to Dinozzo's fiery new probie?
1. Chapter 1: What Started With a Bang

**Author's Note: Hey y'all! Here's the new story I promised! Just a side note, this has mild MILD swearing, but I rated it T to be on the safe side... Also, a disclaimer, all characters belong to CBS. All mistakes however, whether spelling or grammar, are mine. Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter 1: "What Started With a Bang..."**

The city vibrated with energy as Ziva David walked the streets of D.C., music blaring in her earbuds. With a smile, she greeted some of her fellow pedestrians, not letting her spirits be dampened when they ignored her. Holding her head high, she walked to the beat of the music, taking in the sights, the smells, and whatever sounds managed to make themselves known above high volume of her music.

After purchasing a small coffee from a nearby vendor, she took a seat on a park bench, savoring every sip of her hot beverage. She glanced around once more at all of her surroundings, more out of habit than necessity. Her eyes fluttered from the swaying of the trees to the flowers planted neatly in their flowerbeds to the vibrant green grass that caught her eye. Without warning, an eery feeling fell upon her and she began to feel uneasy, almost as if she were being watched.

Casting her eyes round about her, she scanned the nearby area. It was then that her eyes met with another's, and she instantly recognize them. In an instant, her eyes widened and her heart beat quickened, causing adrenaline to rush through her veins. She got up with a start, yanking out her earbuds and dropping her coffee, letting it spill on the ground. The face disappeared into the crowd, but she knew it well, despite the recent burn scars. Those impish green eyes, the thin lips that were constantly smirking, the chiseled jaw and well-kept facial hair- these features were not ones she forgot easily, especially when they belonged to an old friend, Amir Ehrlich, whom she had worked with side by side in Mossad.

He had died over a year ago.

"Amir," she whispered breathlessly, confusion and concern taking over her thoughts.,

She managed to spot him up ahead, and without a second thought, she followed him, keeping a safe distance as to not be discovered. Not that it mattered; she knew for a fact that he was aware of her presence, but all logic and reason failed her at that moment. If even for a second, she considered the possibility of a trap, she did not dwell on it for long, ducking behind newspaper stands and crowds of pedestrians whenever Amir turned his head.

Within minutes, Ziva found herself in a much less busy part of town, where only a few other people were around. In a moment of weakness, she took her focus off of Amir for a second to scan her surroundings, only to find him completely vanished from sight. In a panic, Ziva spun around, searching for any sign of her old partner, when the sound of a struggle and a shout came from a nearby alley. Pulling her sig from her holster, she ran to the source of the sound, failing to clear the coast before she rushed in.

There in the alley was a tall assailant dressed in dark clothing and a ski mask, his gun pointed at a man backed up against the alley wall. Without thinking, Ziva pointed her gun at the assailant.

"Federal agent. Drop the weapon," she shouted, feeling self-satisfaction when the dirtbag flinched. He still, however, kept his weapon trained on the other man. The other man, dressed in a full suit, looked slightly relieved for a moment, but then suddenly paled again.

Before Ziva could make a second request, a familiar voice came from behind her.

"I'm sorry, Ziva," it said.

Ziva spun around just in time to have the butt of a gun brought across her face. She fought to stay awake, but the pain was too overwhelming, and she found herself collapsing to the ground, her gun falling from her hand as the darkness overcame her, sending her plunging into subconsciousness.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

The first thing she became aware of was the sharp pain across her face, accompanied by the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Her mind was still extremely groggy, but she forced her eyes open, letting them readjust to the light in the alley. In a split second, all memories of the previous events came rushing back to her, and she sat up. It was then that she noticed her gun in her hand, now covered in blood. As she looked over, she let out a small gasp. There, propped up against the alley wall was the man who had previously had a gun pointed at him, now with three bullet holes in his chest. Glancing down at her gun once more, she made the connection.

Dropping it and letting it hit the ground, she took in a sharp breath. "Oh no," she half-whispered, using the wall for support as she stood up. Staggering towards the dead corpse, she knelt down beside him, searching his pockets for an ID. Reaching into his jacket pocket, she pulled out a badge, and her heart skipped a beat when she flipped it open. There on the card read "Special Agent Jason Richards, FBI".

Ziva dropped the badge as if it were possessed, her hands shaking from shock. In the distance, she could hear the sound of sirens getting closer. Standing up, she staggered farther into the alley, first stumbling, then jogging, and finally she broke into a full-out sprint. Before the police could arrive, she rounded a corner and disappeared, leaving only a dead body, a gun, and an empty alley for them to find.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

The elevator dinged, and out of it stepped a tall athletic young female agent, her short and choppy brunette hair not quite reaching her shoulders. Her black leather jacket hung over her shoulders and her aviator sunglasses dangled from the neck of her shirt as she entered the bullpen, her stride long and confident. Setting her backpack down on her desk in the far right corner, Kelly Parker, the team's new probie, turned and glanced around, finding the bullpen completely empty except for McGee, who sat typing at his computer.

"Good morning, McGee," she called, noticing that he flinched almost immediately at the sound of her voice.

"Morning," he mumbled, not bothering to turn his head to look at her. He looked exhausted, and due to the fact that he was wearing dark sunglasses, she could think of only one explanation. She began to laugh, to which he looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "What?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

"You have a hangover, don't you," she exclaimed, folding her arms and coming to stand in front of her. His expression only portrayed more annoyance.

"No, I do not, Probie. Mind your own business," he growled, typing even more furiously away at his keyboard.

Knowing that it was time for drastic measures, Parker resorted to her stare that McGee always complained reminded him of the stare that belonged to his former boss. Not that they talked about him much, and not nearly enough to even give her a name, but she'd heard enough to know that one of his glares could make a grown man cry.

After about thirty seconds of her intense gaze on him, she noticed him flinch slightly.

"Well?" she asked, his face scrunching up per her demand.

McGee gave it a moment's thought before finally caving in. With a quick swipe of his hands, he whipped the glasses from his face, revealing a nasty-looking purple bruise on his right eye, which was beginning to swell and close shut. Parker cringed at the sight, and clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping.

"You happy now?" he inquired, his voice dripping with irritation. Parker only stared, her mouth now agape. Finally, she spoke.

"How on earth did this happen? Did you slip in the shower or something?" Her question was only met by unusual silence and McGee avoiding her gaze. His non-answer answered everything, and she began to chuckle, it eventually turning into a full-out laugh. He looked more and more annoyed by the second, glaring at her with his half-opened eye.

"Leave it alone, Probie, or so help me, I will make your life a living hell," he threatened through his teeth, his anger evident through his expression.

Parker, however, was unfazed, and continued to smile at him. Finally, she sighed and sat down at her desk. "Don't worry, McGee," she replied in a very nonchalant manner, "I've given myself a black eye in more embarrassing ways." He looked up.

"Well please, do go on."

She hesitated before explaining. "One time, I was singing into a hairbrush while I was home alone. I brought the hairbrush up too fast, and it ricocheted off my nose and into my eye," she confessed, watching as his eyes lit up slightly in amusement. The change wasn't very noticeable, but he wasn't glaring at her so intensely anymore. "It didn't heal for almost a week, and I continually got teased by my fellow students at FLETC for it," she added.

"You're right," he chuckled, "That's way more embarrassing." At that moment, he was interrupted by a new voice entering the bullpen.

"What's embarrassing, my senior agent?" the team leader, Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, asked, striding in while carrying a coffee and two large paper bags which he promptly dropped on his desk. Glancing over at McGee, he did a doubletake, noticing his bulging black eye. He cringed, his face scrunching up tight, as he walked towards McGee. "You look worse than my great aunt Linda, and she was an ugly woman. What'd you do?"

McGee opened his mouth to speak, but Parker beat him to it. "He slipped in the shower," she announced with a half-smile. DiNozzo chuckled.

"Oh, that is embarrassing," he agreed, his impish smile never leaving his face.

Annoyed, McGee retorted, "Yeah? Well it's not as embarrassing as the way Parker got a black eye." Tony looked at Parker curiously, who then turned to McGee.

"McGee, I was lying about that. The only thing I've ever gotten a black eye from is combat training," she confessed with a shrug, turning and walking back to her own desk. DiNozzo laughed and returned to his as well, leaving McGee to stutter, desperately trying to find words to say in his defense. Turning to the team leader, Parker asked, "So then, Boss, how was Rota, Spain?" DiNozzo chuckled.

"It was great," he exclaimed, "Cold beverages, hot weather, and even hotter babes; just what the doctor prescribed." Turning to his team, he commanded, "But enough mission talk, gather around, people. I come bearing gifts." Both Parker and McGee got up from their desks, standing behind him. DiNozzo reached into one of the paper bags before pulling out a CD and turning to McGee. Handing it to him, he smiled as his face filled with confusion.

"Flamenco music?" he asked, holding the CD. DiNozzo's smile widened.

"Knowing you, McGeek, I figured it would be a step up from Yanni and Zemphir," he explained with a cheshire cat smile on his face. McGee looked at him for a second before returning the smile.

"Thanks, Tony," he said, returning to his desk and putting the CD in his desk drawer.

DiNozzo glanced at him with a slight look of disgust before returning to his bag and pulling something out. Keeping it hidden behind his back, he turned to Parker with a sly smile. "Now, Probie-Wan, I have something very special for you," he explained, his smile growing more impish by the second.

Her look of amusement turned into one of concern as he slowly brought it out behind his back a colorful piece of clothing. His eyes danced with childish amusement as he held up to her a bright red flamenco dress with white polka-dots. She gasped audibly and blushed.

"Pigs will fly before I'm caught wearing that," she stated, backing away while pointing a finger at the dress, "I'd rather you shoot me than make me wear that repulsive thing."

McGee snickered and DiNozzo feigned being insulted. "Probie! Where are your manners? If someone gives you a gift, you should accept it, even if you do throw it away later," he scolded holding it out for her.

Parker looked at it with disgust and moved to behind her desk, almost hiding behind it. "I'm not touching that thing," she insisted, planting her feet firm on the floor and folding her arms.

Tony set it down on his desk and put his hands on his hips. "Tell you what, if Ziva doesn't walk in before, say," he glanced down at his watch, "twenty minutes are up, you have to wear it for a hour. Otherwise, I'll wear it for two hours."

Parker looked at him with a skeptical expression. "You? In a flamenco dress?" she asked. DiNozzo grinned. Parker sighed and hung her head, taking a few moments to think, before looking at him again. "Deal," she confirmed with a smirk, folding her arms.

Looking around the bullpen, DiNozzo asked, "Where is our Israeli assassin, anyway?"

Just then, a third voice spoke from behind him. "I was hoping you could tell me the same thing, Agent DiNotso," it said. DiNozzo spun around in surprise to see Tobias Fornell and a small army of FBI agents.

"Agent Fornell, what brings you here?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Fornell gave him a good, hard stare before answering his question. "I'm here with a warrant for the arrest of Mossad Officer Ziva David," he responded. McGee and Parker stood dumbfounded while DiNozzo suppressed the urge to slug Tobias in the face.

"On what charges?" he demanded, sudden hostility taking over his tone and body language. Again, Fornell hesitated before responding.

"Murder."

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

"Murder? Fornell, really? We both know Ziva didn't murder an FBI agent. She might of done that a year ago, but this is now, and she's different now," DiNozzo argued, struggling to keep a calm expression. Fornell gazed at him straight-faced while Jenny Shepherd looked at him with curiosity. Upon the FBI's arrival, both agents had immediately been called up to the Director's office.

"All the evidence points to her. Her gun was the murder weapon, her prints were all over the crime scene, and frankly, she doesn't have an alibi. Above all, her disappearance only seems to confirm her as the guilty party," Fornell explained, trying to keep a level tone of voice.

"How do you know she didn't just happen to be passing by the area and tried to help," DiNozzo asked. Fornell looked more annoyed by the second.

"If she was there to help, then explain why her gun was used to shoot our FBI agent?"

"Maybe the attacker stole it from her. Maybe this is all a set up."

Fornell scoffed. "If it is, it's a damn good one. Besides, have you seen Ziva David in action? Nobody simply takes her gun from her."

"Maybe she knew her attacker?"

Again Fornell scoffed. "You know, I'm hearing a lot of maybe's and not enough actual facts that prove Officer David didn't murder my agent. The only thing I could go on is your word, DiNotso, and frankly that's not enough to counter all the evidence."

DiNozzo groaned in frustration. Turning to the Director, he plead desperately, "Please, Jenny, you and I both know Ziva didn't do this."

The Director looked at him thoughtfully before glancing back at Fornell. "You're right," she responded, "I do know, but in this case it doesn't do much. The only thing I can do at the moment is promise the FBI NCIS's full cooperation and support. If Ziva does happen to show up, I assure you that the FBI will be notified." Fornell nodded smugly while DiNozzo scoffed in anger.

"You can't be serious! You can't just betray Ziva like that!" he exclaimed furiously. Jenny promptly stood from her desk.

"Agent DiNozzo! I suggest you watch your tone or you will soon find yourself without a job. And as for what you consider 'betraying' Ziva, everything I'm doing is in her best interest," she informed him, keeping her gaze steady as she looked him in the eye.

DiNozzo glared at the two but held his peace, not willing to kiss his job goodbye over simple words. Turning on his heels, he made a mad dash for the door in an orderly manner. Right before he could reach for the door handle, Fornell spoke.

"Oh, and DiNotso," he called after him. DiNozzo turned back to gaze at him with a steely expression. Tobias continued, "If you interfere with this investigation in any way, I will arrest you for obstruction, or even aiding and abetting if you are found in the company of Ziva David. Do I make myself clear?"

DiNozzo nodded and turned once more for the door before being stopped once again. This time, it was the Director. He turned to her, his hazel eyes meeting her gray eyes. Hers were filled with both understanding and sympathy, and yet at the same time they screamed authority.

"Tony, if this gets to be too much, I want you and your team to take a week off, alright?" she inquired. Tony held her gaze. After a slight pause of silence, he responded.

"With all due respect, Director, I won't give up on Ziva that easily," he replied coolly. Fornell opened his mouth to oppose, but Jenny held out a finger to stop him.

"I'd expect nothing less," she said with a slight smile.

Upon receiving her permission, DiNozzo opened the door and exited, ignoring the hole that Fornell's stare was drilling through the back of his head. Outside the Director's office, Tony leaned up against the door in exhaustion. Rubbing his tired face with his hands, he sighed.

Finally, he said to himself, "Good grief, Ziva, what have you gotten yourself into?"

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Ziva ran, never stopping to look behind her, never stopping to take a breath. Her legs hurt like hell and her lungs screamed at her to stop, but she kept going, ignoring the odd looks she received from passersby.

Again and again, her feet pounded against the pavement, moving to the rhythm of her erratic heartbeat. With each leap forward, she found herself farther and farther away from the alley, and from the dead body. As she ran, she tried to think of options, of people and places she could turn to. She knew NCIS wasn't a safe bet at the moment, knowing that Fornell would be there knocking down the door any second now. Plus, she was most likely a wanted fugitive and she wasn't willing to risk the lives and careers of her friends.

Then she stopped, her legs thankful for a short moment of rest. Amir Ehrlich had been the one to lead her to that alley. He was probably even the one that pistol-whipped her. As she thought about it, the answer seemed clear, and she started up once again, using all her remained strength to carry her legs forward.

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 **A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! If you have any comments, questions, or suggestions, feel free to PM me. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Fugitive

**A/N: Hi again! I just wanted to say thank you to all of you who liked, favorited, or reviewed this piece. I can't tell you how much you made my day. In response to that, here's the second chapter. Enjoy :-)**

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 **Chapter 2: The Fugitive**

Within the hour, Ziva found herself standing in front of the Israeli Embassy. Losing no time in making herself known there, she immediately took the elevator up to the third floor, ignoring the receptionist's pathetic attempts at stopping her. Storming into the office, she found Mossad officer Michael Bashan in a meeting with an Israeli diplomat. The diplomat looked up in surprise while Bashan internally groaned. The receptionist rushed in behind Ziva, panting and exhausted.

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her," she apologized in between breaths. Bashan nodded.

"It's alright, we were just finishing up here anyway," he informed them, standing up from his seat. The diplomat followed suit and shook his hand before exiting, leaving Ziva, Bashan, and the receptionist alone.

"Do you want me to call security, sir?" the receptionist asked, gazing at him expectantly. Bashan shook his head.

"No, thank you. I don't foresee a problem here. Do you, Ziva?"

Ziva glared at him, she herself slightly out of breath. "I wouldn't hold my air," she huffed.

Bashan sighed. Turning to the receptionist, he said, "We'll be fine. Go back to your desk." She nodded and left the room, shutting the door on her way out. Finally, it was just the two of them.

Taking a seat at his desk, Bashan reclined in his chair and sighed. "Please take a seat," he requested. Ziva shook her head.

"No, thank you, I prefer to stand," she stated, keeping her ground. Bashan sighed again.

"Very well, suit yourself," he replied, "Now, what can I do for you today, Ziva?"

Ziva took no hesitation in responding. "I want to know why Mossad failed to inform me that Amir Ehrlich was still alive, letting me believe that he was dead," she demanded, a slight hint of anger in her voice. Bashan looked at her surprised.

"Amir Ehrlich? He _is_ dead," he insisted. Rubbing his chin, he asked, "What makes you believe he is alive?"

Ziva groaned in frustration. "Because I saw him walking the streets of DC this morning!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air while beginning to pace the room.

Bashan gazed at her puzzled. "Are you sure it was him?" he asked, his tone betraying his disbelief.

"Yes! I am sure it was him! A face like his is not easy to forget," she explained, clenching her fists as she paced. Her knuckles soon grew white, but she didn't trouble herself in releasing them.

Bashan scratched the back of his balding head, taking into consideration the precarious situation. He hesitated for a moment, searching for a right way to word what he was about to say. Ziva hardly noticed, she being preoccupied with wearing out the soles of her shoes. Finally, Bashan leaned forward in his seat, all the while resting his arms on his desk while placing his hands together.

"Look, Ziva," he started. Ziva stopped in her tracks, suddenly focussing her attention back on him. From his body language and the way he gazed intently at her, she knew whatever he had to say would not please her.

"You do not believe me." It was meant as a simple declaration, but it came out sounding more like a sudden realization. Despite Bashan being a well-trained Mossad agent, he couldn't help but let a guilty expression cross his face. However, he did know better than to open his mouth at this time. He had had several encounters with angry women in the past, and this was not to be the last. Ziva only glared, her eyes drilling a hole through his forehead as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Meanwhile, Parker and McGee remained downstairs in the bullpen, watching as multiple FBI agents tore apart Ziva's desk from the inside out. One agent in particular seemed to be overly zealous in her search, scanning every paper as if she were a mother lion hunting for her prey. McGee and Parker cringed as she dumped out one of Ziva's drawers onto the floor.

"That woman has no sense of personal space," Parker commented, watching in disgust as the agent sorted through Ziva's personal things. McGee nodded.

"I can only imagine what Ziva would do if she saw her stuff being treated like this," he replied, his expression neutral .

Parker scoffed and chuckled. "She'd probably open a can of kick-butt on them," she guessed, her eyes never leaving the agents who were tainting her friend's work space.

Again McGee nodded. "It's a good thing she's not around then," he remarked.

"Yeah, well we don't need Ziva around to whoop their butts. At this rate, I'll do it myself," she declared, her eye twitching in annoyance as one of the male agents chuckled upon finding the GSM magazine in Hebrew among her things.

A shiver again went up McGee's spine he saw her icy glare. To him, she was quite literally a female Gibbs, and that scared the hell out of him. He held her back when she tried to make a move against one of the FBI agents.

"Hey, hey, they're only doing their jobs," McGee defended, "They'll get done here, and hopefully in the end, everything will turn out ok and Ziva's name will be cleared." Parker groaned and sighed. Taking a few deep breaths, she allowed McGee to lead her out and away from the bullpen, finding a nearby corner to converse in.

Parker avoided McGee's gaze and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. "I know, but I just- I can't help but be worried about Ziva, and with Tony being up with the Director and Fornell for so long, it's hard not to be paranoid…" she confessed, her voice low with sincerity, like she was revealing her darkest secret, as her eyes darted swiftly about like a cautious animal. McGee looked at her in with an expression of understanding, sighing.

"Yeah, I know, but we've gotta trust that Ziva can take care of herself," he replied, putting his hands on his hips as he turned back to glance at the FBI agents that continued to trash Ziva's desk, Parker following his lead.

As if to wrench them from their distracted thoughts, Tony came stampeding down the stairs, ignoring the the surprised looks he received from a few of the younger FBI agents. Parker opened her mouth to speak, only to be stopped by the Team Leader.

"McGee, with me," he commanded. McGee promptly followed after him, Parker hot on his heels.

"What about me?" she asked, "I want to help."

DiNozzo turned around suddenly, both McGee and Parker almost colliding into him. "You need to stay here," he instructed, his eyes portraying all levels of seriousness, and yet she persisted in challenging him.

"Damn it, DiNozzo, I want to help!" she exclaimed, keeping her voice low enough as to not be heard by unwanted ears. A flash of frustration swept over DiNozzo's face, as if he were a parent dealing with an unruly teenager.

"And you will help by staying here and keeping an eye on Fornell and his goons," he explained.

"But-"

"That's an order, Special Agent Parker," DiNozzo snapped, causing a stunned expression to rest on Parker's face. Her eyebrows furrowed and she opened her mouth to speak once more, but her boss cut her off once more. "And if you decide to open your mouth once more in defiance against the order you've just received, I will remove you from this team and personally make sure you be demoted to janitor. Do I make myself clear?"

Parker had the common sense not to open her mouth again, surprised by her mentor's wrath and knowing not to push any further. Instead, she kept a firm and steady gaze on DiNozzo, his eyes locking with her; a gaze that DiNozzo swore would've rivaled Gibbs's if it weren't for the fact that she was only a probie.

 _And a good one too, for that matter,_ DiNozzo thought to himself.

After a good minute of an intense staring battle, Parker finally spoke. "Crystal," she responded, swallowing her pride and submitting herself before backing down. Without giving the two men a second glance, she stalked back to the bullpen, quickly whipping out her chair before taking a seat in it, giving an irritated glare to anyone who dared look at her.

DiNozzo gave one last glance at her before leading McGee to the elevator, trying to keep a lower profile as to attract unwanted attention from the detested visitors. With a wary glance towards the bullpen, he pressed the button to go down, and promptly entered the elevator when the doors opened, McGee following behind.

Once the doors closed and the elevator began its descent, DiNozzo flipped the emergency switch, bringing it to a sudden halt. Turning to McGee, he took a deep breath, hesitating to speak. McGee beat him to it though, his curiosity overwhelming him.

"So, how are things looking?" he asked, concern and worry evident in his tone and expression. DiNozzo sighed and rubbed his face tiredly.

Meeting McGee's gaze with a grave expression, he let his eyes fall for a split second, his body language alone answering the question. "It's not good," he finally admitted, folding his arms, "The FBI's out for blood, and the fact that Mossad already has strained ties with the U.S. only worsens Ziva's situation." McGee nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Is there something I can do to help?" he inquired, gazing at him earnestly. DiNozzo again hesitated before answering.

"Yeah, but it might result in career suicide. What we're about to do will at best get us fired, and at worst land us in prison. But compared to what Ziva's looking at if the FBI catch her, it's worth the risk to me," he avowed, devoted to the mission and surrendered to the consequences attached with his actions. McGee nodded in agreement. Suddenly, DiNozzo looked him straight in the eye. "Are you willing to take the risk, Tim?" he asked in a frighteningly serious tone.

Without even a second of hesitation, McGee responded immediately. "Yes, absolutely, anything for a friend," he assured, taking on the same resolution DiNozzo had portrayed seconds ago.

DiNozzo allowed a slight smile to cross his face, putting a hand on McGee's shoulder. "You're a good man, Tim," he said, giving his shoulder a couple claps before removing his hand.

Sighing once more, DiNozzo flipped off the emergency switch, allowing the elevator to come back to life. In silence the two men descended, until at last, the elevator doors opened in the basement, allowing them to step off.

Taking one last step towards Abby's lab, DiNozzo smirked slightly. Turning to McGee with a slight hint of humor in his voice, he announced, "We're getting the gang back together."

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

"Yes, Director, I understand national policy… No, Director, the embassy is not used as a refuge for fugitives of the law… Yes, I am aware of the tense relationship between the U.S. and Israel… If I may,... Yes, I understand… Shalom, Director." Michael Bashan set down the phone with a heavy sigh. Ziva had been pacing the entire time during his phone call, at the sound of his farewell, her attention was suddenly entirely focused on him.

"Who was that?" she inquired, her voice wary and her stance defensive. Bashan reclined in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

"That was the Director of the FBI. He has demanded we turn you over as soon as we know your whereabouts," he responded in a grave tone. His expression betrayed his indecision, and that was dangerous for Ziva.

"Are you going to do it?" she asked, being more cautious than ever. Bashan thought for a moment, an internal war waging inside of him. Upon coming to a conclusion, he leaned forward, his hands pressed together in a prayer symbol.

"No," he resolved, shaking his head, "But I also can't let you stay here for long. As you may have heard, relationships between the United States and Israel are already tense, and if I allow you to find refuge here, there's no telling what the Americans will do, seeing that they believe you killed one of their own."

"But you do not believe that, do you?"

"Absolutely not, I know you did not kill that federal agent," Bashan declared, gazing at her.

Ziva sighed, hanging her head as she thought. Bashan too collected his thought, conflicted on what to do. Finally, he made up mind, opening his mouth to speak. "Tell you what, I will call your father and see if I can't find any information on this Amir Ehrlich, but at this time, there is nothing I can do for you," he confessed, using caution in his words.

Ziva's expression went hard. Turning hard on her heels, she headed for the doors. "Fine," she mumbled, reaching for the door and wrenching it open, "If you can't help me, I'll help myself."

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Again, she was on the run, hiding from the agents who were after her head. Feeling alone and distraught, her mind blurred and she let her legs take her wherever they would, her heart leading her mind. Without even realizing it, she suddenly found herself on the front steps of Gibbs's house. It did not surprise her that she had come here because, in her mind, he was like a father to her, and naturally she would feel safe and secure at his house, despite how well she could take care of herself.

Carefully ascending the steps, she approached the door, taking a deep breath breath before reaching for the door handle. As she turned it, she was not surprised to find it unlocked, and quickly opened it, shutting it behind her once she was inside.

Glancing around inside, she was surprised to find most of the furniture still there. Meticulously examining the place, she found that the only objects missing were personal ones such as pictures and favorite books. Even then, the house seemed stuffy and dusty, probably due to it not having been cleaned in a few months. She sighed. Instead of the welcoming and comforting feeling she had expected, all she felt was emptiness and depression, like something vital was missing.

Giving the front room one last glance, Ziva made her way over to the door that led to the basement, slowly opening it and then closing it behind her. Standing at the top of the stairs, she suddenly had flashbacks of herself standing there with her gun trained on her half brother who was down below with a sniper's rifle pointed at the silver-haired marine, while she pulls the trigger, ending the life of her last living sibling. A brief tear lingered in her eye before she quickly wiped it away.

Wandering down the stairs, she chuckled to see the unfinished boat still there, its ribs not having been worked on by someone in months. Out of all the things she thought Gibbs would've taken with him, that would've been it. As she approached it, she ran a finger along the smooth ribs, collecting dust.

Taking a seat on one of the saw horses, Ziva sighed, letting her eyes wander all over the small room, not focusing on anything particular. As she looked around, she felt lost, alone, and stressed. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her mind clear and free from distraction. Finally, only one option seemed clear. Pulling out a burn phone she'd kept for emergencies, Ziva dialed a number before patiently listening to the dial phone. A cheerful voice sounded on the other end.

"Abby's lab," she greeted as soon as she picked up the phone. Ziva took a deep breath.

"If anyone is with you, do not let them know I am talking to you," she instructed cautiously, smiling at the barely audible gasp that erupted from Abby's mouth.

"It's just you and me," Abby assured, smiling. Although, she could not see Abby, Ziva could tell from her voice that she was excited to hear from her.

Ziva hesitated for a moment. "Listen, Abby," she started, "There is something I need you to do for me."

"Oh anything!" Abby exclaimed, causing Ziva to smile once more.

"I need you to get me a number… one I can contact Gibbs at," she explained, her voice low. No reply came for a moment, causing Ziva to grow concerned.

"Yeah, of course," the response came eventually, "Just give me a moment."

Ziva sat and listened in silence as Abby mumbled inaudible words to herself, her fingers flying over the keyboard. The process lasted for a few minutes as Abby typed and Ziva breathed, praying that Abby would find something.

 _So much for rule number 3b,_ Ziva thought to herself, _Never be unreachable._

Suddenly, a loud cheer came from Abby's end of the line. "Finally!" she exclaimed, "Gibbs didn't make it very easy, but I found him."

Ziva perked up. "You have a number?" she asked.

"Yep," Abby responded cheerfully. Ziva quickly scoured Gibbs's workspace for a pen as Abby proceeded to tell her the number.

"Thank you, Abby," Ziva replied, writing the last number on her hand. There was silence on the other end.

Finally, Abby blurted, "We're worried about you Ziva." Ziva sighed.

"I know," she acknowledged quietly.

"Just please, please, please, take care of yourself out there," Abby begged.

Ziva sighed again. "I will," she assured quietly, hanging up before Abby could say anything else. For a moment, she only sat there, distressed by the situation. Shaking herself out of it, she then quickly dialed another number, listening to the dial tone. Her breath hitched when someone answered on the other line.

" _Hola?"_ the voice said, her mexican accent thick.

"Yes, hello, I'm looking for someone."


	3. Chapter 3: WhenDreamsTurnintoNightmares

**Chapter 3**

 **"When Dreams Turn into Nightmares"**

"I will," Ziva assured, and suddenly the line went dead, startling Abby.

"Hello?" she called, not receiving any response. Sighing, she set the phone down. Just then, the elevator dinged, and Tony's and McGee's voices sounded in the hallway.

"We're getting the band back together," the Team Leader announced, oblivious to the phone call she'd received. Turning to face them, she smiled.

"Scooby-doo," she commented, her voice light and cheerful. DiNozzo grinned in appreciation.

"Nice catch," he complimented, as he and McGee came to stand before her. She smirked.

"Somehow though, I get the feeling that you came down here for more than just making movie references," she quickly added, trying not to look too suspicious.

DiNozzo let out a light chuckle. "You would be correct in assuming that, my gothic friend," he affirmed. Silence followed, making Abby antsy.

"Okay, well then spill," she demanded, "I'm not known to be patient when one of my friends in on the run from the law."

DiNozzo sighed. "So you heard?" he asked wearily, his exhaustion breaking through the light-hearted mask he tried so desperately to put on.

His tiredness made Abby's heart want to break, and one small moment she wanted to cry. "Yeah, I heard. The FBI weren't so good at keeping the reason of their visit a secret. I mean, over half of the building is talking about it," she confirmed, wringing her hands to keep herself from leaping into his arms and crushing him with the biggest hug she could manage. Upon her confession, his face went grave.

"I wish they wouldn't," he confided, his voice unnervingly serious.

"Wouldn't what, Tony?" McGee asked, slightly disturbed by his friend's soberness. Tony's face contorted itself slightly, evidence of the battle he was fighting to keep his composure.

"Talk," he finally spat, "Because that's all they can ever seem to do. Talk and talk and talk, and all the while, they sit in their cozy little chairs at their cozy little desks while Ziva is facing who knows what and running from who knows who. And yet all they can seem to do is talk, without taking action, and without doing anything about it."

Abby and McGee stared at him, mouths slightly agape. This was not the Anthony DiNozzo they were accustomed to. The Tony they knew was a womanizer who took pleasure in being juvenile and taking advantage of the younger agents. This Anthony DiNozzo was a fighter, one who would stand in support for his friends, family, and beliefs, one who would take a bullet for almost anyone, and one who would never shirk from a challenge.

As quickly as it has sparked, the fire died down, and Tony relaxed slightly, taking a deep breath. "Here's the plan," he instructed carefully, retaining the solemness he had displayed previously, "I want both of you to finish up whatever you have today, and then I want you two to meet me in the elevator at 8 o'clock sharp. If you're not here on time, then I will know that you're not on Ziva's six. But otherwise, I expect you both ready to do whatever is needed to get Ziva back, because this little adventure may spell the end for our careers. Until then, go about your day as you normally would, keeping an ear out for any intel that may help Ziva. In the meantime, I will go inform Ducky and Palmer of our plan. Got it?"

Both McGee and Abby nodded quickly.

"Good," he sighed. Turning to leave, McGee followed him, Abby's voice held them both back.

"Tony?" she asked hesitantly. The man in question turned to face her.

"Yes, Abbs?"

Abby immediately lurched forward, enveloping him in a bear hug. "We'll get Ziva back safe and sound. I promise," she told him before releasing him from her grip. His eyes immediately met hers.

"I know," he said solemnly, and with that he left just as quickly as he had come, leaving Abby alone to deal with the onslaught of emotions that had come from his and McGee's visit.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

 _His heart was light, and he couldn't keep a smile on his face for the life of him. His nose was overwhelmed by the smell of the salty air, and as the ocean breeze wafted through his hair, he kept one hand on the steering wheel while placing the other over the hand of the person speeding beside him. Although he was only driving a several year-old minivan, he felt like the richest person on earth as he cruised along the California coast line, listening to the quiet hum coming from the smaller passenger in the back and enjoying the occasional laugh he drew from the red-headed beauty sitting beside him. Meanwhile, the radio played in the background, albeit it was drowned out by everything else around him._

 _Glancing at his wife sitting in the passenger seat, Jethro Gibbs breathed out a sigh of contentment, feeling like he was on Cloud Nine whenever Shannon looked at him like he was her everything. She looked at him curiously._

" _What are you thinking about, Jethro?" she asked sweetly, her voice as heavenly as the sound of angels. He let his head roll in her direction._

" _About how much I love and adore you," he admitted sheepishly, looking her straight in the eye before quickly returning his eyes to the road. Shannon immediately blushed._

" _Yeah? Well I love you too, my handsome marine," she announced, feeling satisfied when he blushed as well._

" _Yeah?" he asked, glancing at her with grin on his face._

" _Yeah," she confirmed, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek._

 _Suddenly, a sound of displeasure came from the back._

" _Ew, Mom, Dad! You two are going to give me cavities!" Kelly exclaimed, glaring at them with a look of disgust. Shannon chuckled and Jethro let out a hearty laugh._

" _Well if you don't want cavities, then shut your eyes," Jethro finally proposed, still smiling like a lucky son of a gun._

 _Kelly didn't like his solution and immediately made it known. "But how will I be able to watch the ocean if my eyes are closed?" she asked incredulously, her face portraying extreme sarcasm and seriousness. Shannon had to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing at her eight year old daughter. Jethro, however, held his composure much better than his wife._

" _Pay attention to the ocean then, and don't look at us," he replied, using his rear view mirror to glance back at his annoyed daughter._

 _Kelly's contorted itself into a displeased expression. "Like you guys make it easy," she huffed, "I can't even concentrate on the music with you two being so sickeningly sweet!"_

 _Jethro laughed, quickly being joined by Shannon who turned a shade of pink from laughing a little too hard. Kelly became even more annoyed by their laughter, but her face suddenly lit up when "U Can't touch this" by MC Hammer came on the radio._

" _Oh, oh, turn the radio up, Daddy! This is my favorite song!" she exclaimed excitedly. Much to her delight, her father complied with a small smile. However, her mother was much more astonished._

" _Kelly!" she quickly scolded. Her reprimand fell on deaf ears as Kelly was too distracted by dancing to the music, leaving Shannon to scoff in disbelief. Turning to Jethro, she asked, "How does she even know this song?"_

 _Trying to look innocent, Jethro merely shrugged, feeling the weight of his wife's displeased look make him more and more uncomfortable by the second. Finally, she looked away from him._

" _And to think that I thought the other army brats were the culprits," she scoffed with a chuckle._

 _Before Jethro could even open his mouth to defend himself, two loud gunshots pierced the air, and within fractions of a second, blood splattered on his face and clothes. Looking over in terror, he saw his wife dead with a bullet between her eyes._

" _NO!" he shouted, slamming on the brakes and bringing the car to a complete stop. Reaching over to carefully cradle Shannon's head in such a way that he could look into her lifeless eyes, his heart died inside of him and tears threatened to fall. "Nonononono, Shannon, sweetheart, please stay with me!" he pleaded, hot and salty tears rolling down his cheek. His wife remained lifeless, and ever so carefully, he brushed his fingers over her eyelids to close them._

 _With erratic breathing, he suddenly thought to check on Kelly, but his breath hitched as soon as his head swiveled around to look at her. She too sat lifeless, a bullet between her eyes. As if he was slowly being suffocated, he gently placed his wife against the back of her seat and reached behind to hold his daughter's hand._

" _Kelly?" he asked, his voice cracking and remaining barely above a whisper. No reply came. Although logic screamed that it was no use, he called her name one more time, devastated when he received no answer._

 _Letting the distressed tears flow freely, he let go of her and turned around in his seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly to the point that his knuckles turned white. Letting out an inhuman scream of pain and anger, he began bashing his head against the steering wheel, his howls growing louder. Suddenly, something moved in his peripheral vision and he turned quickly, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun._

" _Do it, you bastard!" he growled, watching as the person behind the gun smiled, preparing to pull the trigger. Closing his eyes, Jethro Gibbs prepared himself for what was to come next._

 _ **BANG**_

Gibbs woke up with a start, gasping for air. Confused and disoriented, he glanced around the room wildly before focusing on the tall figure standing before him.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," it said, its voice loud and irritating to Gibbs's sensitive ears. Focusing harder on the figure, he found it to be Mike Franks, his mentor and former boss, holding a recently fired shotgun.

Due to Gibbs's blank stare, Mike tried again. "I said mornin', Sleeping Beauty, have a bad dream?"

Gibbs shook himself out of his grogginess and let go of the sheets he realized he'd been clutching the entire time. "What?" he asked, slightly bewildered.

Mike let out a huff of annoyance. "Did you have a bad dream?" he repeated, practically yelling.

Gibbs shook his head. "No," he replied, ignoring the incredulous look he received from Franks, "Why ya ask?"

"Cuz you kept shouting no and calling for Shannon and Kelly," Franks explained. Gibbs sighed.

"Well why didn't you try to wake me?"

Franks scoffed. "I did!" he exclaimed, "First I started calling your name, then started shaking you and slapping your face."

"Then what's that for?" Gibbs asked, pointing to the shotgun in Mike's arms.

"This? This was my last resort. I fired off three shots before you finally came to," he told him, walking over to the wall to hang the shotgun in its proper place. Gibbs sighed again and rubbed his tired face with his calloused hands. Mike turned back to him after putting the shotgun away.

"You wanna tell me what it was about?" he asked. Gibbs shot him an annoyed look.

"No," he said firmly, standing up and trying to push past him. Mike, however, stopped him in his place and looked at him sternly, placing a hand on his right shoulder.

"Let's try this again," he retorted, "You gonna tell me about it?" Gibbs sighed, his face growing solemn. After a moment of trying to make up his mind, he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"It started out as a mere memory, but it had a much more twisted ending than the one I remember," he explained quietly, rubbing the back of his head.

Satisfied with the reply he had received, Mike clapped his hand on Gibbs's shoulder a couple hands before letting go. "Hurry and throw on clothes for wading in while I gather together the fishing tackle. We're having fish for breakfast," he announced with his crooked smile. Soon after, he stalked out of the small hut, leaving Gibbs alone to his thought.

Plopping down on his cot, Gibbs sighed wearily and reached for his wallet, pulling out worn photo. A ghost of a smile crossed his face as he gazed at the two faces that smiled back at him, remembering the moment that had brought on those smiles.

" _Daddy! Daddy! Come take a picture of us!"_

" _Woah, hold on there, Kelly. You can't just drag your mom like that."_

" _I'm alright, Jethro, but you might want to hurry and take the picture before she explodes from excitement."_

" _Take our picture, Daddy!"_

" _Alright, ready? One, two, three, cheese!"_

" _Cheese!"_

Smiling, Gibbs carefully gave the picture a small kiss. "I sure love you guys," he said solemnly, fighting back the tears that wanted to flow. Carefully placing the picture back in his wallet, he rubbed his face and sighed.

 _Time to start another day,_ he thought to himself, _Another day without my girls._

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Feeling a tug on his line, Jethro Gibbs slowly began to reel in his line.

"I think I got one," he commented to his friend beside him. Franks looked at him in surprise.

"Another one? Is there a lucky rabbit's foot you've been holdin' out on me?" he asked skeptically, "I thought you wasn't a believer of the supernatural."

Gibbs chuckled, grunting when the pull on the line became harder. "I'm not," he clarified, "I'm just a very experienced fisherman."

Franks let out a roar of laughter. "Yeah right, tell that to the three foot tuna you let get away a day or so ago," he remarked smugly.

Being preoccupied, Gibbs didn't reply and began to reel faster, his rod beginning to bend from the strain that the fish was causing. Suddenly, the strain decreased and his rod began to return to its original form.

Letting out an annoyed huff, he turned to Franks who was snickering from his loss.

"Yeah, well maybe if you had grabbed the damn net like I asked you to, it wouldn't have gotten away," he retorted, sticking another worm on his hook. Franks mocked looking insulted

"You blamin' me, Probie? I thought I taught you better than that," he declared, casting his line out. Gibbs only shook his head and smiled, casting his line out as well.

Beginning to reel his line in slowly, Mike began to feel pressure on his line. "Aw, here we go!" he announced, reeling in faster. Glancing at Gibbs, he smirked, "Let the real fisherman show you how it's done." Gibbs merely rolled his eyes, his attention more focused on Mike's line than his own.

Mike's line began to bend more and more before some of the pressure was released. Soon enough, a large shadowy figure could be seen coming towards the shore in the choppy water. Grinning, Mike beckoned to Gibbs excitedly, "Hurry and grab the net, Probie. I've got myself a beaut!"

Obeying his mentor's order, Gibbs set his rod down carefully and picked up the large net that lay on the sand, holding it out towards the water for when Mike would reel the fish in closer. However, the figure didn't struggle as much as it should've, and the closer it got to shore, the less it looked like a fish.

"Is that-" Gibbs was stopped from finishing his sentence when Mike interrupted him.

"Don't you dare jinx me, Jethro!" he ordered harshly, clearly frustrated.

Gibbs held his peace until Mike finished reeling in his "prize".

"I didn't know you were planning on making sushi," Gibbs commented, letting out a small chuckle at the sight of the large mound of seaweed, "You're not laughing now, are you?" Mike groaned and grumbled.

"Damn it, Probie! I thought I told you not to jinx me!" he yelled, being more annoyed when Gibbs only laughed.

"Hey, I waited until you got the seaweed out of the water," he defended, still grinning.

"Yeah, but I bet you were thinking up some sort of incantation while I was towing it in," Mike accused.

"I thought we just agreed that I'm not superstitious," Gibbs quipped, feeling satisfied when he thought he heard Mike swear under his breath and say something about him being too much of a wise guy.

Due to the sound of the salty oceanic waves crashing against the seashore, neither heard the soft footsteps that approached them.

"Hola, Señor Gibbs and Señor Franks," Camila called, carried a woven sack in hand and waving with the other. Both men in question turned, giving her a smile. Mike looked particularly pleased.

"Well if it isn't the little miss ray of sunshine. You're just in time for breakfast," he announced, gesturing to a couple decent sized fish sitting in a cooler. Camila chuckled.

"You're too kind, Señor Franks, but I already ate," she confessed, shrugging nonapologetically. Gibbs smothered a chuckle when Mike's face grew distraught upon being rejected.

"So'd ya bring the stuff I asked for?" Gibbs inquired, glancing at the bag in her hand. Camila nodded.

"Sí, you owe me twenty-five American," she replied, handing him the sack, along with a couple other envelopes. Pulling out few stray dollar bills from his pockets, Gibbs handed them over.

"Keep the change," he insisted.

"Gracias," Camila thanked him, giving him a small smile as she put them in her back pocket.

Looking at the two inquisitively, Mike shifted towards Gibbs, trying to peer into the woven sack he was holding. "You, ah, you wouldn't happen to have a pack of beer in the sack, would ya, Probie?" he asked. Camila chuckled and Gibbs smiled.

"Señor Gibbs is going to feed you something other than fish and beer," she explained as Gibbs opened the sack to show Franks. Franks scoffed in disgust at the sight of the vegetables.

"I don't need him to cook me anything. Whenever I get bored of fish and beer, I just go up to the cantina and get myself a burger and mojito."

Camila scoffed and Gibbs rolled his eyes. "You can't just live off of meat and alcohol, Mike," Gibbs stated. Again, Mike scoffed.

"Hah! Watch me," he retorted defiantly.

Camila put her hands on her hips. "Señor Gibbs, you are a true saint," she commented, "I don't know how you can stand living with such a grumpy old gringo." Mike looked insulted.

"Old? Who you callin' old? I might not be as young as I used to be, but I'll still give you a run for your money," he bragged, causing Camila to raise an eyebrow.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," she replied. Mike grunted and said something inaudible before spinning on his heels and heading back down the beach. Gibbs turned to follow, but Camila stopped him.

"Hang on, Señor Gibbs, I still have something for you," she called, holding out a phone, "You have phone call." Gibbs looked confused, approaching her before removing the device from her hand.

"Did they give a name?" he inquired, dialing the recently called number and listening to the dialing tone. Camila shook her head.

"No," she said, "But it was a woman, and she made it seem urgent."

Gibbs nodded. "Alright. Gracias, Camila." Suddenly, he heard the person on the other end pick up.

"Whoever this is better give me a damn good reason as to why they are interrupting my fishing," Gibbs ordered sternly.

" _Shalom to you, too, Gibbs,_ " the voice greeted, surprising Gibbs.

"Ziver? How'd you get this number," he asked, sauntering a ways away from Camila and a still grumbling Franks.

" _Does it matter?_ " she retorted. Gibbs noted the weariness in her voice but said nothing about it.

"Well yeah, yeah it kinda does," he replied, "I thought I gave explicit instructions that I was not to be bothered." He heard a sigh on the other end.

" _It was Abby,_ " she confessed, " _But if it helps, I tortured it out of her._ "

Gibbs scoffed. "No, not really, cuz I'd have to skin ya if you even so much as touched a hair on her head," he stated, ruffling his long salt-and-pepper hair. Sighing, he asked, "So why'd you call?"

" _Can't I just call to catch up and ask how Mexico is?"_

"Today, Ziva."

Again, Ziva sighed. " _I may need your help,"_ she confessed.

"If this is to help you with your practical prank war on DiNozzo, then I'm not interested."

Ziva let a out a wry chuckle. " _No, it is nothing like that. It is much more serious."_

Gibbs frowned. "How serious are we talking, Ziva?"

There was a pause. " _I may or may not be on the run from the FBI and NCIS."_

Gibbs sighed and rubbed a calloused hand over his tired face. "Where's DiNozzo? Why can't he help you."

Her answer came faster than he expected. " _Because I do not want him to,"_ she blurted. Sighing, she clarified, " _I do not want him sticking his head out for me when I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."_

Gibbs noticed her error in the usage idiom and smiled. "It's neck, Ziver, and that's what partners are for though, Ziva, to watch your six and pull you out of whatever rut you find yourself in." Again, there was pause as Ziva sighed heavily, knowing that he was right.

" _I know, but if he got in trouble for helping me, I would not be able to live with the guilt,"_ she confessed, " _Plus, the FBI are probably watching him like a hawk, hoping that he will lead them to me."_ It was Gibbs's turn to sigh, knowing the truth in her statement. He rubbed his face again.

"Ziva, honestly, what am I gonna do about it? I'm three thousand miles away!" he asked, slightly frustrated by the situation.

There was another pause. " _I was hoping… maybe save me?"_

Again, Gibbs sighed. A whirlwind of thoughts rushed through his head, and the pressure he felt didn't help. Along with that, he could almost hear Ziva holding her breath. Then the storm cleared and peace settled, allowing him to think clearly. He knew what he should do.

"Hang on, Ziver," he finally instructed, much to Ziva's relief, "I'm comin' for ya."

* * *

 **A/N: Guys, seriously, thank you for taking the time to read this. Also a HUGE thank you to everyone who followed, faved, or reviewed! It means the world to me :-)**

 **(Also, I didn't change the last scene cuz I felt like it didn't need changing. As they say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it."**


	4. Chapter 4: Odd Woman Out

**Sorry for the long wait, guys! I was preoccupied with school and my muse was nonexistent, so yeah... Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **"Odd Woman Out"**

Having had nothing to do after being reprimanded by her boss, Parker had a few cold cases brought up to her, determined not to waste a work day. Eventually, the FBI agents left after tidying up Ziva's desk and taping it off. However, she still felt their presence as an agent would walked past the squad room occasionally, eyes and attention trained on her. It was slightly unnerving, to say the least, and her sanity was not helped when Agent Fornell, having just come from the Director's office, descended the stairs, giving her a hard stare.

Then DiNozzo and McGee returned from who knows what they'd been up to, not bothering to say a word to her, and each grabbed a cold case from off her desk, taking a seat at their own and silently getting to work. Frustration was the only word that could adequately describe her state of mind, and as she went over the details the cold case she was working, she couldn't help but occasionally glance at her boss sitting across from her.

At one point, DiNozzo dialed a number on his personal phone and immediately exited the bullpen, making a beeline for the elevator. Looking after him skeptically, she glanced at McGee who had also watched him leave. Reclining in her chair, Parker spun so that she was facing the SFA.

"Who do you think he's calling?" she asked, twiddling a pencil in her hand. McGee's posture stiffened, evident that he had heard her, but he refused to look at her.

"It's none of our business who he's calling," he stated calmly, keeping a composed expression while looking over the paper he was holding.

"But you're not the least bit curious?" she probed, hoping for some sort of clue as to what they had planned. McGee recognized her elusively investigative tone and turned to look at her.

"Nope," he replied with a smile, "See, the difference between myself and you and Tony is that I know when to not dig into other people's business." Parker blushed slightly and let out a wry laugh.

"Harsh, but true," she admitted. Not ready to give up quite yet, however, she continued to dig. "But if you were to guess who was on the other end of the phone call, who would you wager?"

McGee glanced away for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, he responded. "My best bet is that he's placing an order at his favorite pizza place," he joked smugly, ignoring Parker's look skepticism. Glancing at his watch, he added with a smile, "After all, it is lunch time."

For a few seconds, Parker looked at him with an expression that screamed, "Really?", causing McGee to grin even wider. Eventually, she replied, "You know that using sarcasm makes me really want to punch you in the face sometimes, right?" McGee chuckled.

"Thanks, I try," he replied sarcastically with a half-smile, causing Parker to grow more frustrated by the minute. However, she hid it well, and returned McGee's annoyingly conceited smile.

Sitting up straight and spinning to face her desk, Parker leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. She sighed, feeling frustrated with her lack of success in breaking McGee. She tried to return her focus to the file sitting on her desk, but her mind kept wandering, worrying about well being of her friend. Sure, she hadn't known Ziva for very long, but Ziva was the embodiment of what she wanted to be like, and she had immediately been drawn to her.

Now, she was being shut out of the mission to help Ziva (because Ziva didn't really need saving, did she?) and it frustrated the heck out of her. The more she thought about it, the more it angered her, and she began to rant in her head.

 _Am I just not good enough of an agent? Why am I being left out? Do they not trust me? After everything we've been through together, have I not proven myself trustworthy? Sure, I'm a bit of a spitfire, but still, I can follow orders pretty well…_

Though she said nothing, her thoughts were loud enough to make McGee worried.

"Hey, are you OK?" he asked, noticing her furrowed brow and her pursed lips. Her attention immediately snapped to him, and on the mask came.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied nonchalantly, shrugging. Closing the file on her desk and turning off her computer, she pulled her leather jacket off of her chair and swung it over her shoulder. "I'll be back, McGee," she informed, "I'm just going to go grab a coffee." She then quickly stalked to the elevator, leaving McGee to watch after her, a worried expression beginning to come over his face.

 _Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave her out of this,_ he thought.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Sitting alone on a park bench under the shade of a large tree was Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, carefully sipping a coffee and waiting, his eyes hidden by his dark sunglasses as they scanned every person in the vicinity, noticing a few details here and there. His gaze was steady, like a hawk, as he observed his surroundings. Glancing at his watch for the third and then glancing to the extra coffee cup and holder in the empty seat beside him, he sighed and crossed his legs, repositioning himself.

Then, without warning, a cab pulled up and a man got out, looking slightly angry and frustrated. Tony straightened his legs quickly and picked up the coffee holder beside him, keeping a watchful eye on the man storming towards him. Without any sort of greeting, the man sat down beside him with a huff, and Tony held out the other coffee, the man accepting it with a gruff "thank you". After taking a long sip, the man sighed and set the coffee down, his glaring eyes trained on DiNozzo.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Special Agent Bartlett," Tony greeted, taking off his sunglasses and sticking them in his jacket pocket. Special Agent Joseph Bartlett scoffed and looked at him in disdain.

"It's not like I had much of a choice," he retorted, visibly anxious and annoyed.

"Well, you could've said no."

Bartlett let out a wry laugh and shook his head. "And have you hang that over my head for the rest of my life? No thank you."

DiNozzo simply shrugged and sipped his coffee, watching through his peripheral vision as Bartlett turned to stare at him. After a few straining moments of silence, Bartlett spoke up again.

"Alright, DiNozzo, the anticipation is killing me. What do you want? I didn't come here so you could taunt me and wave your leverage in my face," he stated, anxiousness seeping out of every word.

DiNozzo sighed. "I need an FBI case file," he answered, glancing at Bartlett whose breath hitched.

Bartlett nodded hesitantly. "Depends on which case," he informed, his voice tight and tense. His words came out slow and cautious, displaying his wariness, as he refused to meet the gaze of the young Italian brunette agent.

As if he were Dr. Phil, DiNozzo studied his body language carefully and almost felt sorry for what he was about to ask the older man to do, recognizing the nervousness under the agent's intimidating mask and knowing that it would be disastrous for him if things didn't go to plan. But his determination overruled his sympathy, and so he proceeded with his request.

"I need everything you have on the murder of Special Agent Jason Richards as soon as possible," he demanded, keeping his voice stern and authoritative to dissuade refusal. The FBI Special Agent's face went pale for a split second before it retained his roughness.

"Like hell!" the FBI agent spat, scoffing at DiNozzo's audacity.

DiNozzo, however, immediately fought to repressed the urge to snap the agent's neck. "Let me clarify, Special Agent Bartlett, you will get me the case file on Richard's murder," he tried again, trying not to let his desperation show through. All the while, his eyes flickered dangerously with determination has he held his ground.

The FBI agent gave a mocking laugh. "Why? Do you really think you have that much weight to throw around? Even if you did, I still wouldn't want to stick my neck out for you like that," Bartlett remarked, pushing DiNozzo to the brink.

"Why?" DiNozzo asked, his voice dangerously low, low enough to send shivers down Bartlett's spine. "Why?" he repeated again, "Because I stuck my neck out for you once too. Because I put my career and even my life on the line to keep your sorry butt from going to jail. I didn't have to, but I did. So now you're going to do the same for me to keep someone I care about from going to jail and even being put on death row."

For once, the FBI agent didn't have some wise-guy response. Instead, he contemplated the situation for a moment before standing up. "I still don't like it," he stated gruffly, facing DiNozzo, "but I'll see what I can do."

Without another word, he walked away, leaving behind Tony with two empty coffee cups. Tony stood as well, throwing them away in a nearby garbage can. "Hey, Bartlett," he called out, watching as the FBI agent spun around. As soon as there eyes met, he nodded. "I appreciate it."

Bartlett let out a wry laugh. "Good," he responded, turning his back to the NCIS agent as he walked to the curb and hailed a cab.

DiNozzo watched as Bartlett disappeared into a taxi before releasing a heavy breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Collapsing back on the park bench, he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. DiNozzo's eyes once more glanced out over the park, the sight of the greenery relaxing him slightly. Inhaling deeply and then exhaling slowly, he placed his hands behind his head and letting it fall back, allowing him to gaze up at the clear blue sky. To him, today had so far been a really long day.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

After Parker's impromptu coffee run to clear her head, the day progressed like any other, minus the important fact that it was unlike any other. DiNozzo returned, howbeit he appeared even more emotionally and mentally drained, and neither McGee nor Parker dared say a word to him. Eventually, the clock struck five, and all three team members packed up and left, ending the day in complete silence.

On her drive home, what normally consisted of music blaring from her speakers and dancing like no one was watching, only silence remained, the exhaustion and frustration from the day wearing on her. This same atmosphere followed her into her apartment and remained with her while she ate and showered, clinging onto her like an unwanted guest. Finally she resorted to crashing on the couch, aimlessly staring at the black screen of her tv without bothering to turn it on, the remote still clutched in her hand. All the while, her mind churned, seeking for some kind of solution to eliminate the situation at hand.

Suddenly, a shrill ringing pulled her out of her overwhelming thoughts, causing her to grab for the source of the offending sound. Immediately, she flipped it open and answered.

"Hello?"

A soft and affectionate voice replied on the other end.

" _Hello, darling,"_ her mother responded sweetly, filling Kelly with instant relief. One thing that had always fascinated her was how merely her mother's voice was enough to comfort and strengthen her, giving her the hope she thought she'd lost. Kelly immediately took a deep breath and put on a smile.

"Hey, Mom," she greeted, "How are you?"

" _Eh, not too bad. My day was without any hiccups, so that usually counts for a really good day,"_ her mother explained, " _but something tells me yours didn't go so well."_ Her mother, Shannon, heard Kelly let out a wry laugh at her comment, causing her to frown slightly in concern.

"You know me too well, I think, to know that my day was bad just by the way I said hi," Kelly said offhandedly, relaxing deeper into the comfort of the couch cushions.

Shannon chuckled. " _Well it's not like you tried to mask your irritation when you answered,"_ she replied, drawing a soft laugh from Kelly.

"Yeah, like it would've made a difference. Even if I sounded cheerful, you still would've been able to tell that something was wrong."

" _Well of course I'd be able to. I'm your mom; it's in the job description."_

Kelly smiled. "You're pretty good at your job, too," she commented, running her fingers through her hair.

Deep down, a warm feeling swelled in Shannon's chest although she scoffed humorously at Kelly's praise. " _I'd sure hope so! I mean, I've been your mother for over twenty-three years. I'd better be good at it, right?"_ she teased, causing Kelly to giggle.

"Yeah, yeah I guess you'd have to be," she agreed heartily. Her mother laughed with her. When the laughter died out, though, silence followed, leaving her with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Out of the deafening silence, Shannon's soft voice broke through. " _So are you going to tell me what happened?"_ she quietly asked, her voice so gentle and smooth.

Kelly sighed a long sigh, not wanting to describe to her the stressfulness of her day and yet knowing that she would feel better afterwards if she did. "You remember Ziva David, right?" she began, "The FBI came in this morning with a warrant for her arrest for the murder of an FBI agent. Of course, this was the one day she didn't show up to work, probably because she was on the run or something. Anyway, as soon as Agent Fornell pulled out the warrant, Tony looked like he was going to wring someone's neck. Next thing I know, him and McGee are off planning who knows what to help Ziva, and all the while I'm stuck on the sidelines being kept in the dark."

To Kelly's surprise, hot tears rolled down her cheeks, stinging her skin. She quickly brushed them away and took a deep but heavy breath, pinching the bridge of her nose and scrunching her eyes tight. Meanwhile, her mother refrained from saying anything, her soft breath sounding in Kelly's ear.

Taking another deep breath, Kelly continued. "Honestly, I don't know what DiNozzo's problem is. After all this time, does he not think I'm capable enough? Does he even trust me? I could take a bullet for him and he'd probably shrug it off like it was nothing. I'm beginning to think nothing is good enough for him. "

Shannon cleared her throat. " _Kelly,"_ she warned. Kelly sighed again.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I just feel so _helpless_."

A light laugh elicited from her mother's mouth. " _Oh darling, it just means you're human. As for Agent DiNozzo, I think he knows you're a very capable agent, but he wants to protect you in case things go bad,"_ Shannon reasoned, hoping calm her frustrated daughter. Her plan backfired and her comment only agitated Kelly even more.

"I don't need protection! I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself. And to hell with consequences! If we get caught, so what?" Kelly argued, blinded by pride and frustration. A knot began to form in her stomach when her mother remained silent, deathly silent, signalling that she was greatly disappointed. She gulp, suddenly feeling ashamed and foolish.

" _You might not care about the consequences, Kelly," her mother finally began, her voice low and full of displeasure, "But I care very much. My husband is already dead, and I'd rather not have to visit my only daughter in prison."_

Even though they were only two simple sentences, they tore through Kelly in ways she never imagined possible. Instant regret settled in the bottom of her stomach and she sighed.

"I know and I'm sorry, I just want to do something to help, though.

" _I'm proud of you for that, but I want you to be careful. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."_

"I know," Kelly affirmed. A momentary pause followed, allowing her to take a couple deep breaths and drain all the stress away.

" _I need to let you go now. Someone is trying to get a hold of me,"_ Shannon finally explained, and although she couldn't see her daughter, she knew in that instant that Kelly's face dropped. She quickly added, " _I love you, Kelly."_

A soft smile tugged at Kelly's lips. "I love you too, Mom." Before she knew it, Shannon had hung up on her, leaving her all alone to her exhausted and stressed out aura.

Sighing heavily, Kelly set her phone down beside her on the couch before reaching for the TV remote. Turning the TV on, she kept her gaze fixed on it, and although she appeared to give it all her focus, her mind was somewhere else entirely.

* * *

 **As always, thank you for reading and thank you for all the support! It really makes my day!**


	5. Chapter 5: Conspiracy Theories

**Hi again! I'm dropping this just in time for Turkey Day :-)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 **"Conspiracy Theories"**

The start of a new day brought many things: the shining of the sunrise off of the Potomac, the crowd of people in the coffee shops, the stop-and-go traffic, and those special few who were getting in their last snooze. The steady flow of pedestrians on the sidewalks became thicker and thicker, and the sound of car horns filled the air more and more. Slowly, the city began to come to life, awakening the many different workplaces from their silent slumber.

However, this awakening had not yet reached NCIS Headquarters yet, as only a few agents had staggered in to get an early start on the new day. Thus it was that the oranges halls remained empty, the lights turned off, the monitors black, and the Squad Room void of any life. The only sound to be heard was the sound of silence.

Down on the first level of the building, the silence was broken by the rhythmic pounding of footsteps as a tall man with messy brown hair and circular spectacles sprinted in, nearly colliding with a wall as he rounded the corner at too fast of a pace. Rapidly pressing the 'up' button of the elevator, he struggled to catch his breath, his breath coming out in short bursts of air.

Leaning on the doorway of the elevator for support, Jimmy Palmer jumped back when the elevator dinged and the doors swooshed open, revealing DiNozzo, McGee, Abby, and Ducky all quietly conversing while they waited for him. All immediately looked up to him, and he blushed in embarrassment.

"Oh, there he is," Abby commented brightly, offering him a small smile while straightening up from the hand-rail she had been resting on.

Tony, however, appeared less than pleased, as his face emulated displeasure. "Autopsy Gremlin, what part of six-thirty sharp did you not understand?! I thought you were serious about this!"

Palmer rushed into the elevator immediately, his face still flushed. "I know, I know, and I'm sorry," he apologized, "I was on a roll this morning and then it all escalated quickly. First, I couldn't find a pair of matching socks, and then I locked myself out of my apartment and-"

DiNozzo cut him off, sending a look that made the Assistant Medical Examiner want to hide in a hole. "Have you heard the saying about excuses?" he inquired sharply.

"N-no, what is it?" Palmer stammered, shaking his head quickly.

"Excuses are like armpits. Everybody has them and they all stink."

Palmer's face lit up in recognition. "Oh, I've actually heard-" Upon receiving another look from DiNozzo, he backed away. "Nevermind," he muttered under his breath.

DiNozzo cleared his throat. "Now that we're all here," he started, sending Palmer the third dirty look in the past two minutes, "I want all of you to be aware that what we're about to do will, at best, get us fired, and at worst, land us in prison. If any of you are uncomfortable with this, you know where the door is." He made a motion towards the door of the elevator, giving everyone a hard look.

The silence was almost deafening as each person internally contemplated the situation, weighing their options. Ducky was the first to step forward.

"Ziva is one of our own. We always take care of our own," he stated, his stance portraying his conviction. "I'm in."

His words inspired Abby, who immediately jumped up. "Ducky's right! Ziva is family, and family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten. I'm in."

"Without a doubt," McGee nodded.

Simultaneously, everyone's eyes wandered to Palmer who was standing awkwardly in the corner. He swallowed nervously.

"Well, Autopsy Gremlin?" DiNozzo asked expectantly, pulling him into focus.

"My, uh, my life could use a change of pace anyway," Palmer inserted quickly, "Plus, it might be nice to stick it to the FBI for once. I'm in."

DiNozzo made a show of grabbing one of Palmer's shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. "You're the man, Palmer," he decreed, giving him a pat on the back.

Still blushing from the attention, Palmer weakly fist-pumped, whispering reassuringly

to himself under his breath, "I'm the man."

Rolling his eyes, DiNozzo got back down to business. "Now then, first we need a base of operations," he declared, rubbing his hands together.

No sooner had he spoken when Abby instantly rose her hand, waving it excitedly. DiNozzo sighed. "Yes, Abby?" he asked.

"Gibbs's basement," she blurted, not to anyone's surprise.

DiNozzo thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, sure. Why not? It's not like he's using it," he commented nonchalantly. Within seconds, however, he put back on his business face. "Next thing, assignments. Abby, McGee, you're on computer duty, which includes hacking and… stuff…" His hand gestures reflected his bumbling words, causing Abby and McGee to raise an eyebrow in amusement. Turning to Ducky, DiNozzo recovered from his awkwardness and explained, "Ducky, I need you to do a psychological profile on any suspects we dig up. Palmer?"

Upon hearing DiNozzo's raised voice addressing him, the Assistant Medical Examiner nearly jumped out of his skin. The SFA took notice, inwardly taking pleasure. "You're on snack duty, got it?" he affirmed.

Palmer nodded his head. "Uh-huh," he acknowledged.

DiNozzo's expression morphed into one of satisfaction. "Good," he concluded, flipping the elevator switch and bringing it to life.

Just before the elevator arrived at its destination, DiNozzo quickly added, "Everybody, take separate cars, and don't forget to stagger your leave time. We meet at Gibbs's at 0800." Everyone hummed in agreement.

The elevator reached the main floor and it dinged, its doors swooshing open to reveal Director Jenny Shepard. Caught off guard, the team flustered a bit before quickly removing themselves from the elevator and scurrying away, leaving DiNozzo with the Director.

With an amused expression, Jenny boarded the elevator, pressing the fourth floor button while taking note of the SFA's guarded and suddenly stiff stance. "I don't suppose you were discussing conspiracy theories," she pried, studying him closely.

DiNozzo resolved to keep a straight and serious face. "Not at all, Director," he immediately replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the stainless steel door in front of him.

Glancing at him for a moment longer, she allowed her eyes to gaze ahead. "I take it your team needs the time off then?" she inquired.

DiNozzo shifted uncomfortably. "Do you have something against that?" he challenged.

His slight hostility in his voice caused the Director to raise an eyebrow. His mannerisms reminded her of Gibbs and she smirked at the similarities. "No," she replied, "Besides, if I remember correctly, I was the one who suggested it."

Taking the hint of her approval, DiNozzo's posture relaxed. "Yes, yes you did," he affirmed.

The elevator dinged once more, and Jenny Shepard went to exit. Once outside the elevator, she turned back. "Tony?" she asked, immediately catching his attention. She nodded and gave him a small smile. "Good luck."

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

The elevator dinged and the doors had barely begun to open before Kelly Parker pushed herself out, sending a panicked glance at her watch.

 _Crap! 7:34,_ she thought, rushing around the corner of the Squad Room.

"Sorry I'm late, Boss. It won't happen… again…" Her last word was drawn out as she suddenly realized she was alone. In seconds, her panicked expression was instantly replaced by one of confusion.

Idly setting her backpack on her desk, she glanced around the bullpen. Each desk- except for Ziva's, of course- looked as if it hadn't been touched since the previous night, all of the office supplies put away in their places and the case files stacked in a nice and neat pile to the side.

 _Did I miss a memo or something?_ she thought to herself, wandering past each desk, giving it another quick look-over. As she walked passed DiNozzo's desk, the phone ringed. Looking around, she searched for her Team Leader before picking it up.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's desk," she answered.

" _Hello, this is Dr. Thompson's secretary. Is Agent DiNozzo available?"_ the woman on the other end replied _._

Parker glanced around the office one more time. "No, he's not. May I take a message?"

" _Can you remind him that he is scheduled for a root canal this upcoming Thursday?"_

"I'll be sure to do that," Parker guaranteed, a smirk spreading across her face.

" _Thank you,"_ was the short answer she received before the woman hung up on her.

"Ouch," she mumbled, grimacing and setting the phone down.

For the third time, she found her eyes aimlessly wandering around the office, more out of boredom than curiosity. With a sigh, she strolled over to her desk and took a seat with a huff. She sat for a moment before a lightbulb went off in her head. A twinkle of mischief flashed in her eyes and an impish grin formed on her lips. Using a key to open the bottom drawer of her desk, she pulled out the necessary supplies, that of which included whipped cream cans and a roll of ducktape.

Making sure the coast was clear, she grabbed the supplies and casually strolled over to McGee's desk, occasionally glancing over her shoulder for unwanted visitors. Mentally picturing the looks on her co-workers' faces, she smiled and got to work. This was going to be good.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Escaping from the jam-packed sidewalks of D.C., Tony DiNozzo frowned in disgust to find that the coffee shop was nearly as crowded. Moving out of the way for someone who rushed past with their coffee, his eyes carefully scanned the room, his eyes landing on a tall man in a dark overcoat. Casually strolling over to him, he sat down on the opposite side of the table, glancing around for any suspicious observers.

"Did you get it?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes never meeting the FBI agent's. He didn't need to look at him to see the intense bitterness resonating off of him.

Agent Bartlett scowled. "Barely," he explained harshly, carefully removing a file from under his overcoat and covertly handing it under the table to DiNozzo, "A greener agent caught me in the act and asked me why I needed it. Luckily, he was easily manipulated."

"Ah, probies. Always so gullible," he commented with a small chuckle, carefully tucking the file under his own overcoat.

The FBI agent put on a smirk. "From what I hear, yours isn't."

DiNozzo shrugged. "I'll admit, she definitely keeps me on my toes."

"Good. It's about time someone knocked you on your sorry ass,"

Letting out a wry laugh and putting on a fake smile, DiNozzo stood up. "Seriously, I owe you one," he admitted, going to walk past Bartlett. He was held back as Bartlett grabbed his arm.

"No, you don't," he stated firmly. "This is it. I'm not going to be in bed with you anymore. I've got a wife and kids to provide for, which means I can't stick my neck out for you like this."

"So no love lost between us then?" DiNozzo asked.

Agent Bartlett stood up. "Goodbye, DiNozzo," he said gruffly before spinning on his heels and advancing towards the door.

DiNozzo stood back and watched as the FBI agent aggressively swung the door of the coffee shop open before stalking out, an unpleasant expression on his face. Feeling the file underneath his overcoat, he sighed. He might have just lost his best informant in the FBI, but for Ziva, it was worth it.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

As promised, five different cars slowly pulled up to the little blue house on Laurel Street in Alexandria, each parking along the side of the road in front of it. Each of the owners climbed out and made their way towards the house, never saying a word; their only form of recognition was the nod they gave each other.

Cautiously wandering up the steps of the porch, DiNozzo suddenly pulled his gun, McGee instantly following suit, as they spotted the door slightly ajar. "Stay here," DiNozzo ordered the other three quietly, motioning for McGee to follow him.

Slowly and quietly, DiNozzo opened the door and entered with McGee behind him, guns drawn. They did a quick sweep of the main floor before DiNozzo headed for the basement, finding the door wide open. No sooner had he entered the doorway was his gun knocked out of his hands. Momentarily shocked by the action, he hardly resisted when his attacker lunged at him, landing him flat on his back.

In the background, DiNozzo heard the scuffle of McGee's feet until suddenly they came to a stop, as if they were glued to the floor. Now staring down the barrel of a gun, _his gun_ to be exact, he barely had time to process its presence before his eyes fluttered to the person behind the gun. Although the salt-and-pepper hair was long and disheveled, the usually clean-shaven face covered with stubble, and the sports jacket and polo shirt replaced by a grubby button-up shirt, DiNozzo would've recognized those icy blue eyes anywhere.

"Tony," the gruff voice said.

His voice filled with confusion and relief, DiNozzo responded. "Boss?"

* * *

 **Thank you so much for all the faves, follows, and reviews! It's really awesome to hear back from you guys :-)**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6: Topsy-Turvy

**A/N: So I had someone ask me if DiNozzo knew that Kelly was Gibbs's daughter, and I just want to clear a few things up. No, DiNozzo does not know. Also for the purposes of this fanfiction, Kelly doesn't know her father is alive. Because Gibbs left the team all of a sudden, many of them hold grudges and therefore have not used his name at all around Kelly, only referring to him as "Boss" or "the Old Marine" etc. (anything but Gibbs). I know it probably doesn't make sense, but it's what I've decided to work with.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 **"Topsy-Turvy"**

"Boss?" Tony asked, surprised.

"Not your boss, DiNozzo," Gibbs corrected, removing his foot from off the middle of DiNozzo's chest. He then proceeded to help him up and handed him his gun. DiNozzo immediately holstered it.

Standing in the threshold of the kitchen, McGee slowly lowered his gun. "Gibbs?" His face scrunched in confusion.

Gibbs turned to him. "Hello, Tim." Glancing past him, he asked, "The rest of the gang here?"

Right on cue, Ducky stepped into view, followed by Palmer and Abby. "We're here, Jethro," he assured in his thick brogue, "We didn't expect you to be here, though."

"Ziva called me," Gibbs deadpanned.

Ducky's eyebrows shot up momentarily in understanding. "Ah."

There was a moment's pause before a confused expression passed over DiNozzo's face. "Wait, how'd she get your number?" he inquired, crossing his arms as his brows furrowed. As soon as he uttered the words, however, a light bulb went off in his head, and he and Gibbs immediately turned to Abby. Gradually, all heads turned, and Abby shifted uncomfortably where she stood..

"You lied to me?" DiNozzo asked in disbelief.

"Technically it was an omission," Abby clarified, her voice quieter than normal and timid like a child.

"But you were planning on telling me, right?"

"Yeah, totally," she agreed nonchalantly. Her insincerity caused DiNozzo to frown but he bit his tongue.

Glancing around the room suddenly, McGee inserted, "Speaking of Ziva, where is she?"

"I am right here, Tim," the voice came suddenly from the basement doorway. All eyes turned to see the olive-skinned Israeli leaning against the doorframe. Only DiNozzo's eyes locked with hers.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, her tone almost demanding.

"I'm here to help you," he admitted softly and sincerely. His words were solemn and casual, but his eyes betrayed his desperateness.

Her heart ached at his earnestness, but she could not bear the thought of dragging him into her mess. "I do not need it," she declared curtly, hardening her expression.

His eyes fell, but he persisted. Reaching for the contraband under his overcoat, he stated bluntly, "According to this file, you do. Your gun was the murder weapon. Your prints were found all over the crime scene and the body." He paused to take a deep breath while Gibbs glanced at Ziva in disappointment. His voice suddenly going dangerously low, he concluded, "To put it simply, your name was written all over the crime scene."

Any hope Ziva had of redemption suddenly vanished, but Gibbs wasn't so easily dissuaded. "So then the only way to clear Ziva's name is to catch the guy that did it?"

Trying to meet Ziva's eyes, DiNozzo coaxed, "You were there when the murder happened, right?"

Ziva refused to look at him, but she nodded hesitantly. "Technically, yes."

"Then you saw who did it?"

"Yes."

DiNozzo kept pressing. "What did they look like? How tall were they?" he inquired. Quickly, he added, "Give me any details you can."

Without warning, her eyes suddenly locked on his, and the faint sign of turmoil that had adorned her features instantly disappeared. "I can give you something better than that," she affirmed, "A name. Amir Ehrlich, former Mossad. He was supposedly killed in a bomb-blast a year and a half ago."

"And you're sure it was him?" Ducky inquired incredulously.

Ziva nodded. "Yes. He was like a brother, so his face is not one I would forget easily."

DiNozzo sighed. "I guess the next step is getting set up and finding everything we can on Amir," he declared, putting his hands on his hips.

"No," the silver-haired marine suddenly stated.

"No?" DiNozzo looked at him in surprise.

"No," Gibbs shook his head, "We can't stay here. Fornell will know to look here for us."

"Then where, Gibbs?"

Ignoring the slight tone of hostility in his former SFA's voice, Gibbs's eyes twinkled as a playful grin tugged on his lips. "I know a place."

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

The lock clicked and the door knob turned, the door opening to reveal a charming and elegantly decorated apartment with tan walls, dark brown mouldings, cornice, base, and forest green-upholstered furniture. The walls were decorated with impressionist artwork, and all though there wasn't much of it, there was enough to make the apartment feel like a millionaire's mansion.

"Home, sweet home," Gibbs announce, stepping through the door way and allowing the others to follow. DiNozzo whistled and McGee gasped.

"Wow," McGee breathed

Coming in carrying a few cases of equipment, Palmer blurted, "Somehow, I was expecting something much more dull and boring." All eyes turned to him and he suddenly flinched. "Well, um- I just- ya know, because thi- this is, um, because this is Gibbs's safehouse, a-and your sense of s-style is kind, uh…" he stuttered nervously.

"Kinda what, Palmer?" Gibbs asked, arms folded and eyebrow quirked.

Palmer cleared his throat and wiped the moisture from his glasses. "Bland," he said, his voice barely over a whisper as he hung his head.

Much to his relief, Gibbs let out a hearty chuckle. "Yeah, well I wasn't the one who decorated. Jenny did," he explained.

Momentary shock settled on the room. "Jenny?" DiNozzo questioned, placing his hands on his hips.

"As in Director Shepard?" McGee quizzed.

Gibbs nodded his head. "She wasn't the Director back then. We were sent undercover as a married couple to keep an eye on the landlord, whom we suspected was involved with drug lords responsible for a Petty Officer's death."

"So you two shared a bed together then?" DiNozzo probed, humor leaking into his expression. He immediately sobered up when Gibbs glared at him and Ziva jabbed him in the side, causing him to wince visibly.

"Ziva has every intelligence agency after her, and your top priority is knowing whether or not I shared a bed with the Director of NCIS?" Gibbs asked incredulously, unimpressed with DiNozzo.

DiNozzo's expression hardened and his posture straightened. "Right," he started, locking eyes with the Marine, "we have an ex-Mossad agent to catch. Let's move it, people!"

Snickering to herself, Abby leaned over to Ducky and whispered, "He never said no."

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

After about an hour of waiting for her team, Parker began to get bored, to wonder, to worry, and most of all, she began to be suspicious about where they were and what they were up to. When neither DiNozzo or McGee stepped off the elevator she'd been watching like a hawk for the past fifteen minutes, she decided to investigate. Rising from her desk, she strode to the elevator, quickly slamming the "down" button.

Moments later she found herself headed towards Abby's lab. The second she had stepped off the elevator, she had immediately known something was off. Maybe it was the fact that there was no heavy metal wafting through the halls or that the janitor was actually working instead of having a conversation about bacteria with about, but alarm sirens instantly sounded in her head.

As she came closer, she found the lab door closed. Testing the handle, it opened to reveal a tall man with longish blonde hair in a lab coat typing on Abby's computer. She accidentally slammed the door loudly, and the man jumped and spun around.

"Oh, hello," he greeted with a small smile, speaking in a heavy Australian accent.

For a moment, Parker could only stare. "Who are you?" she blurted, wary of the stranger.

"I'm Robert Chase, but you can call me Chase," he introduced himself, "I'm subbing for Abby Scuito."

Still not satisfied, Parker took a step closer. "Where's Abby?"

The Aussie shrugged. "Dunno. All I know is that the Director called looking for a temporary replacement forensic scientist."

Without another word, Parker shot him a suspicious look before stalking out, leaving behind a very confused forensic scientist. Hitting the elevator button, she boarded it once more, this time headed for Autopsy.

At first glance, she spotted one person inside wearing the traditional blue scrubs. Letting out a sigh of relief, she started towards the doors. "Thank goodness Ducky is here," she breathed.

She was stopped in her tracks yet again when she noticed the person had long black hair. Upon the figure turning around, Parker knew it definitely was not Ducky, for the person was too feminine to be the elderly Scottish doctor. Not wanting another unnecessary confrontation, she backtracked towards the elevator immediately.

Safely inside the elevator, she thought, _What the hell is going on around here?_

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

After being sent straight to voicemail on any of her team she attempted to call, Parker tried to tracking their cellphones, only to find them untraceable. She then tried calling DiNozzo a few more times before giving up in a huff, feeling slightly irritated.

 _So much for 'Never be unreachable',_ she thought, collapsing into her chair with a sigh.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

With feet resting on her desk and her chair in a reclined position, Parker sat flipping through a comic book she'd found in one of McGee's drawers, idly skimming over its content.

The elevator dinged and her eye shot up in attention. She growled in disgust when Tobias Fornell stepped off, his facial expression not at all pleasant.

As he walked past, he cast her a side glance, causing her to feel slightly uncomfortable. Parker was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he disappeared out of sight, when he suddenly backtracked, peering into the Squad Room.

"Where's your team, Agent Parker?" he demanded, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Parker shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Damn it…" he grumbled before storming off, making a beeline for the Director's office.

Parker watched for a moment before sighing and returning to the comic book. Sometimes fiction and fantasy were excellent distractions from reality.

 **~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

The door to the Director's office burst open, and in stormed Fornell without invitation. Jenny Shepard looked up from the file she'd been reviewing and took off her reading glasses, setting them aside.

"Agent Fornell, please do come in," she stated dryly, a hint of annoyance gleaming in her eyes. Her surliness only worsened the FBI agent's mood.

"Ya know, I was a little surprised when I came up here to find almost all of the MCRT missing," Fornell vocalized, his voice louder than normal.

The Director quirked an eyebrow. "How do you know they're not taking care of a crime scene?"

Fornell scoffed. "Are they?" he asked, his tone demanding an answer. Jenny's right eye twitched with irritation, but she held her peace, refusing to speak. He added, "Besides, why would they leave Parker behind?"

Surprised, the Director let down her guard. "Kelly's here?"

"Yeah, she was in the Squad Room reading one of McGee's comic books," he explained.

"Hmm." Jenny stood from her chair and straightened her pencil skirt. "I guess she didn't get the memo," she concluded, coming to stand in front of her desk and folding her hands.

"What memo?" Fornell inquired, exasperated by the lack of answers he was receiving.

The Director gazed at him for a moment, enjoying how much he was suffering from the built up suspense. Finally, she cleared her throat. "I gave the MCRT- along with Abby, Dr. Mallard, and Mr. Palmer- the rest of the week off," she clarified, keeping her gaze steady.

Fornell stared at her, shocked. "Why the hell would you do that?" he nearly shouted.

"I beg your pardon?" Jenny challenged, her tone hostile, as her gaze turned to an icy glare, and her knuckles turned white from clenching them too hard.

"You've practically enabled them to interfere with the FBI's investigation!" he argued, throwing his hands in the air.

The Director's glare turned deadlier by the second, and her irritation practically emanated off of her body. "No, I distanced them from the case and took away their security clearance for the time being. It's protocol."

Fornell scoffed. "You and I both know they can be very resourceful, and now you've let them loose, where they'll have no kind of supervision whatsoever. At least here, we could've monitored them."

When the Director remained silent, he knew she knew he was right. "Mark my words," he warned, "This is not the last you'll be hearing about this." Then making a beeline for the door, the FBI agent exited the room as quickly as he had come in, leaving a fuming Jenny Shepard alone in her thoughts

* * *

 **Just really quick, thank you to all of you amazing people who reviewed, faved, and followed on the last chapter. Also, quick warning, but due to finals, I might not post for a while. Still, I'd love to hear your thoughts or suggestions!**


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